


the kids are all wrong - the story's all off (one-shots vol. 2)

by harpers_mirror (SapphireBryony)



Series: Collected Shorts & One-Shots [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One-Shots, episode tags, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBryony/pseuds/harpers_mirror
Summary: My second collection of short one-shots, mostly written in response to tumblr prompts.See chapter index for character/pairing info per chapter.





	1. then we will float away [lambert & selberg]

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Selberg and Lambert - 'I am not involved in whatever you are trying to do.'" Title taken from Honey & the Sting's "Paradise Valley."

Through the haze of coughing and pain, he heard the hatch open and close. It wasn't the captain, he knew, because she never entered or exited a room quietly. She preferred to make an entrance with a witty one-liner and leave with a smirk and a laugh at his expense.

God, what he'd give to have a totally normal argument with Isabel right now. He'd break protocol and everything.

His chest was wracked with choking coughs again and the fantasy dissolved into a red haze of pain once more.

When he came back to himself, Dr. Selberg was floating over him, staring at the creased printout in his hand.

"Doctor..." His attempt at speech was cut off with another coughing spasm. 

"Deep breaths, Dr. Lambert," came the gruff, accented response. "Deep breaths."

When it was under control, Sam looked up at the doctor through blurry eyes.

"What..." Another attempt at a deep breath. "What did you do, Doctor Selberg?"

He watched discomfort chase surprise and fear across Selberg's face. Normally being proven right felt warm and satisfied, a comfortable sort of feeling that all was right with the world. It was a sensation Sam hadn't felt in a long time.

He didn't feel it now.

Now, vindication tasted bitter and hopeless, and he sighed and looked away as Selberg cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Dr. Lambert, I... I know you have questions. I know you have fear and many reasons to hate me. But I have orders and I suspect that you, more than anyone else left aboard this station can respect that. Or at least...comprehend it."

"I never asked to be a part of this!" The words were out before Sam could consider them. He cringed at his own whiney petulance. Definitely not heroic last words.

Selberg sighed again, slipping the paper into his pocket and turning toward the wall of medical supplies.

"I know," came the quiet, measured response. "None of us did, Samuel. And yet..." The final words spiraled down into a baritone growl that made Sam shudder in his restraints.

He sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly bone-tired. "I know, Doctor. Take what you want from me."

He felt the needle pierce his skin, felt the sedatives take hold. Felt himself floating gently away from the table and the coughing and his would-be murderer. 

"I wish..." he slurred. 

Selberg didn't turn.

"What."

"Wish I'd floated away. With her. Wish I'd been brave. Never gon' be now. Wish..."

He hummed a few disjointed notes before unconsciousness took him.

Selberg gripped the counter ledge until his knuckles whitened, and the lab grew dark around them both.


	2. the pleasure - the privilege - is mine [minkowski/eiffel]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Minffel - I am definitely not supposed to be here.'" Set immediately after episode 36, "Fire & Brimstone." Title taken from The Smith's "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out."

She hears the hatch swing open but doesn’t turn from her position in front of the biggest window in the observation deck. 

“Colonel, if you’ve come to rebuke me some more, you’re going to have to get more creative with your threats. Otherwise, I might just fall asleep.” Renee knows how bitter she sounds and doesn’t care; hell, she revels in it, in the glorious freedom that came with insubordination.

If she’d known it was this freeing, she’d have tried it years ago.

“Uh, not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, Commander,” comes the unexpected voice from behind. “But It’s just me. And hopefully, I’m less boring that Colonel Doomsday.”

Her stomach drops. Eiffel. There is absolutely no way she’s ready to face him, not after - not after everything.

“Go away, Eiffel,” she answers, in what she hopes is a measured tone. “I can’t... I don’t think you should be here right now.”

“Oh, I am _definitely_ not supposed to be here,” Eiffel says, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “But who cares? I’m not exactly inclined to start respecting Kepler’s authority _now._ And...” He trails off. 

Renee can see his warped reflection in the window, sees that he’s right behind her now. He hangs there for a moment before she hears his intake of breath, tense as if steeling himself for the next explosion.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He’s aiming for light and unconcerned, she can tell, and misses by a wide margin. Renee sighs, wondering if there is any power in the universe that could reign in Doug Eiffel’s sleeve-worn emotions, and keep them from leaking everywhere. She sighs again as she sees his reflection flinch, clearly taking her reaction as rebuke.

“Eiffel, I - “

“I mean, “ he cuts in, a little frantically, “I know you’re not _okay_ okay, like, after today, who would be? Not that - I mean - “ And it’s his turn to sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.” Now the hand his raking through his hair, a gesture she has come to recognize as a nervous habit. Even the dim, slightly distorted reflected Eiffel in the window looks exhausted and sad and she almost turns around.

But - 

_one count of kidnapping_

“Eiffel...”

_child endangerment_

“I...”

_twenty-six years in -_

“Forget it. Eiffel. Everything’s fine.” A bitter little laugh escapes. “Fine. Why wouldn’t we be? The Colonel has restored order and the rogue elements have been dealt with. Just another mutinous day on the Hephaestus.”

“Commander, I - “

“Leave me alone, Eiffel.” She sees his reflection tense, and the palpable cloud of sadness in the room seems to grow tenfold. It threatens to choke her if she doesn’t get rid of him.

“Okay,” he replies, very quietly. “If that’s what you want.” She sees him raise a hand, hesitate, and then the hand is on her shoulder. She flinches and knows he feels it.

“Can I say one thing first though, Commander?” 

She laughs wearily, hanging her head. “Since when do I have control over you talking, Eiffel?”

This surprises an answering laugh out of Doug. “Fair point. I, uh...” He clears his throat. “I’m glad you didn’t go for the nuclear option today. You have no idea how glad I am of that. But just so you know...” His reflection’s eyes close, and she hears him swallow. Then the words come out in a rush, as though escaping before he can catch them back.

“If the nuclear option is ever the only choice you have left? I’m, uh, I’m with you. Hundred percent. And more importantly, if that’s ever the option you’re picking, I want to be there. You jump, I jump Jack. Don’t... don’t leave me behind.” 

Abruptly, he pulls his hand back and turns to leave. She hears him mutter something under his breath about “the Smiths being right,” whatever that means. And then he’s gone.

She hangs in front of the window, resting her hand on the spot vacated by his, and lets the tears come.


	3. indispensable [maxwell & jacobi]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Jacobi - [gif of Spongebob's computer catching on fire]." ^.^

“I told you that was a bad idea, Daniel.”

“Alana! Either hand me the fire extinguisher or shut up. Commentary is really not helpful right now!”

“I’m just saying - “

“ALANA!”

“ - that hiding your poor, frequently-known-to-overheat laptop at the bottom of your laundry pile - “

“It was for safekeeping!”

“ - was a poor choice. The consequences of which you are currently reaping.”

“Yeah, yeah, poor widdle computer fried its brains, _I get it._ But right now, half the clothes I own _are on fucking fire. **Help me.** ”_

“And this is why we don’t mistreat our electronics! Here.”

“Finally! I knew I had a fire extinguisher around here somewhere. Where was it?”

“...at the bottom of your other laundry pile. Daniel...”

“Don’t even start, ‘Lana. Just... don’t. Just accept that I’m a moron who would be lost without you.”

“And don’t you forget it.”


	4. until you die for me, as long as there's a light [jacobi & maxwell & kepler]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a vigil. he has to be sure. 
> 
> (can you ever be sure?)

Daniel heard the door slide open behind him. He didn't turn.

“I'm not leaving her,” he said, his voice quiet and empty, his eyes fixed on the still form in front of him. “I'm not leaving her and you can't make me.”

“Mister Jacobi - ”

“Pardon my French,  _ sir _ , but fuck off. Leave me alone. I need - I just have to - ” He paused to take a deep, steadying breath. “I need to stay here. In case she wakes up.”

“Daniel...” Kepler's voice was softer this time, pained. “We've talked about this. Alana’s not going to wake up.”

“She might,” replied Jacobi, obstinately. “You don't know. Nobody knows for sure.”

Kepler sighed, and placed a heavy hand on Jacobi’s shoulder.  _ "I _ know, Daniel. She's dead, and it's a damn tragedy, but - ”

“But now we know, sir, that death is not an absolute. Neither is life or the knowledge that we're whole and sane and human.”  His laugh was strangled, manic. “ No one knows because two weeks ago I listened to myself die and two hours ago I saw a woman rise from the dead and that's proven that _ we don't know a damn thing about anything.” _

Jacobi paused for breath and to choke down the sob that was riding in his throat and threatening to explode. Slowly, he reached up and placed his hand on Kepler's where it rested.

“I'm not going anywhere, sir. She - she needs me. Just in case.” Kepler said nothing, but the grip on his shoulder tightened momentarily.

He turned at last to face his commanding officer.

The room was empty, the door still sealed and locked.

His hand gripped empty air and the fabric of his own shirt.

“I'm not leaving her,” he said allowed to the empty room.

He got no reply.


	5. rock bottom [eiffel & minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission Log, Day 541 - Transcript of Educational Outreach Broadcast #2

_ [transcript begins] _

“Alright, kids! Gather ‘round, ‘cause it’s time for another edition of ‘Uncle Doug’s Fun-Fact Science Corner!’”

“Eiffel, that’s not what - ”

“Shh, Commander, we’re live. Actually, wait, don’t ‘shh.’ Say hi to the kids.”

“Uhh...”

“Commander Renée ‘I’m Better and Smarter Than You in Pretty Much Every Way” Minkowski,” kiddos! Give her a hand.”

“I’m leaving now, Eiffel. Try not to say anything we’ll need to censor out later, okay?”

“Yes sir! One totally bleep-free, PG, highly informative segment coming up!”

“...”

“Alrighty then, and we’re back. So I’m talking to you guys today because my  _ super scary boss _ told me to, ‘or else,’ and I’d rather put off knowing exactly what that means for as long as possible. They told me to pick a science topic to talk about today, and let me tell you, the ‘approved list’ was slim pickings. I picked ‘rocks’ because, well,  _ I _ rock, so clearly I am well-equipped to talk about this.”

“So. Rocks. What are they, where do they come from, and what can they do for us? Out here in space, there are rocks just, like, flying around all willy-nilly. Roaming the wild frontier of deep space like the noble buffalo of old. And the answers to the questions I just asked are as follows: 

  1. They’re trouble-causing, signal-disrupting, hull-denting little **[bleep]** s. 


  1. They come from other parts of space, or maybe planets! Or maybe from angry aliens who’ve thrown them at us. Nobody really knows for sure.



And 3. Not a  **[bleep]** ing **[bleep]** ing thing. They just - Oh! Commander! You’re back already. What’s up?” 

“Eiffel, you’ve been bleeped three times in as many minutes. Is the concept of self-control  _ completely _ lost on you?”

“Sounds boring.”

“Of course it does. And because you have the mouth and mind of a teenage boy in a locker room, I have to babysit you for the rest of the broadcast.”

“Great! The more the merrier, Commander!”

“...I despise you, Eiffel.”

“No you don’t. You find me strangely charming and irresistibly delightful.”

“And yet, observe my startling amount of resistance to your dubious delights.”

“You’ll give in eventually, everyone always does. Anyway, back to rocks! So, kids, rocks on earth are very different from rocks in space. For one thing, rocks on earth? Do not fly around. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that, but it’s both true and a major difference between earth rocks and space rocks. That’s why some earth rocks are called ‘sedentary’ rocks, because they’re lazy little  **[bleep]** ers - “ 

“Eiffel! Jesus Christ!”

“Whoa, Commander, watch your language! There are kids listening, after all. Anyway, so, the sedentary rocks just kind of sit there, as their name suggests. Actually, come to think of it, all rocks just sit there, so I don’t know why a) they bothered to specify that or b) why not all rocks are classified that way. Minkowski, remind me to ask Hilbert about that later.”

“Eiffel, it’s not - never mind.”

“And that concludes everything I remember from the geology unit in seventh grade science class. Ooh, except that the study of rocks is called ‘geology,’ so there’s a bonus lil’ factoid for ya, kids. But you’re in luck, because I managed to acquire some rocks for today’s talk, so the remaining - how much time is left, Minkowski?”

“Seventeen minutes.”

“The remaining seventeen minutes of today’s broadcast will involve me describing these rocks to you guys, how’s that sound?”

“Dreadful, Eiffel. It sounds dreadful.”

“Fantastic. So. This first rock. It’s grey and kinda lumpy and if I touch it too long, my hands get real dusty. It came from right outside here, and is a gen-you-wine space rock. Rock number two is also grey and lumpy and dusty and from space. It’s kinda shaped like Hilbert’s head, actually, down to the strange texture. And speaking of Hilbert, rock number three comes to us from his lab! It’s different from the first two, because instead of being grey and dusty and boring as heck, it’s smooth and shiny and yellow and kind of...glowing. Hey, Minkowski, should I be touching this?”

“Almost certainly not, Eiffel.”

“Welp, in that case, I should probably take it back to the lab post-hasty! Nothing more important than safety, right Commander?”

“Uh, actually, yes, Eiffel. Good to see you realizing - ”

“So you take over with the broadcast while I go practice good safety protocol somewhere far away from here!”

“Wait, what?”

“This has been Uncle Doug’s Fun-Fact Science Corner byeeee!”

“Eiffel! Get back here!”

_ [End of broadcast.] _

_[Transcriber's note: After this segment, the "Educational Outreach Broadcast" series was discontinued for the Hephaestus mission.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Maili](http://lookingatthepieces.tumblr.com/) for the encouragement and [Stewart](https://thekidxp.tumblr.com/) for the terrible "sedentary/sedimentary" pun.


	6. copper boom [eiffel & minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“But- but- but- ” he spluttered. “Minkowski, you just quoted something. A_ television _something."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my dear wife [Alex](https://acidtygr.tumblr.com/) for giving me this prompt when I begged for something fluffy I couldn't possibly ruin with angst.

It was on a dark and especially space-turbulent day when Doug Eiffel’s perception of the world was irrevocably shaken.

He’d been helping Minkowski install the new hatch over the entrance to the Magical Mystery Lab & Extreme Danger Bug Petting Zoo (or, as the rest of the crew insisted on calling it, “the secret lab” - boring!). And, okay, so  _ maybe  _ he’d been insisting on talking like Igor the whole time - 

“An homage to the mad science lab! And you’re the boss, Commander, so of  _ course _ I’m Igor!”

\- and  _ maybe _ he’d already dropped the welding torch two or three or okay maybe eight times - 

“It’s really hot, Commander! Is it supposed to get that hot? Oh god, is it going to explode?”

\- but on the whole, he thought he’d been really super helpful and useful throughout the process.

And then, he dropped the welding torch for the ninth time.

As he scrambled to pick it up, he heard Minkowski sigh with frustration. And, very quietly, under her breath she muttered, “Oy with the poodles already.”

He dropped the torch again.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Commander. You - you just - wait, a sec, repeat the last thing you said.”

She raised an eyebrow and, to her credit, did a fairly accurate impression of the large sigh she’d heaved a moment before.

“No, not that! What you said! Not what you, um, exhaled.”

Minkowski looked nonplussed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Eiffel. Now go retrieve the torch and help me finish this. We’re almost done here.”

“But- but- but- ” he spluttered, doing as she asked. “Minkowski, you just  _ quoted _ something. A  _ television _ something. A freaking  _ Gilmore Girls _ something! This - this is  _ huge!” _  Eiffel stared at her in awe. “You have not only seen a tv show from this century, but one I like and that you know well enough to  _ reference?! _ We have a bond now! This changes everything!”

“Eiffel,” said Minkowski in that dangerously patient way she had sometimes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything, let alone quote a television show. So let’s finish up sometime this rotation, okay?”

He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere like this, so he shut his mouth for the time being. He knew what he’d heard, no matter how much she wanted to Gilmore-gaslight him.

He’d just have to lay a cunning trap for her.

Later, he’d reflect that laying a trap for someone as devious and tactically-minded as Minkowski was  _ way harder than it sounded. _

He started small, trying to trigger an accidental quoting by slipping lines into everyday conversation.

French fries came up in conversation? He was sure to mention that they were the Devil’s starchy fingers. Minkowski failed to react.

Mention of little kids prompted the jam-hands rant.

When Hera cracked a joke at the her expense, Eiffel was quick to jump in. “Hera, don’t joke with commanders, it’s not what they do.” 

That one had left Minkowski looking slightly put-out which, if he was being honest, he felt kind of bad about.

He and Minkowski got into a pointlessly circular argument one afternoon that ended when he shouted, “We’ve been here before, I recognize that tree,” and stormed away, legitimately annoyed.

And none of that was even taking into account the amount of coffee jokes he was able to make as they grimaced their way through what remained of Hilbert’s seaweed concoction.

Eiffel was on the brink of giving up and resigning himself to never getting her to crack. All of these traps would have worked on him in a heartbeat, but they were very different people and frankly, she was way smarter than he was. He was even starting to doubt if he’d heard her correctly at all. Maybe she was right, maybe he  _ was _ just finally losing his last marble - 

\- and then it hit him. The ultimate way to find out for sure. The truest test of all.

He waited for the perfect moment to strike. Minkowski was busy poring over station logs and only half listening to him as he kept up a running babble about anything that crossed his mind.

“So anyway, Commander, Hera and I played like, 40 more games of chess last night, and I very nearly won one for like, ten whole seconds before she massacred me. Hey, which do you like better, chess or checkers?”

“Chess,” answered Minkowski, distractedly brushing her hair out of her eyes. She made a face and started rummaging in her pocket for a hair tie. 

Eiffel handed her one and continued seamlessly.

“Of course you do. Coke or Pepsi?”

She didn’t look up, already engrossed in the logs again. “Uh, Coke if I had to pick.”

“Good, good. Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.” She was flipping through two binders simultaneously.

“Solid choice. Dean, Jess, or Logan?”

“None, they were all terrible boyfriends and Rory was better off focusing on her studies.”

Minkowski looked up at him in dawning horror as she registered what she’d said. “Damn it,” she grumbled.

Eiffel whooped. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t going crazy! You  _ did _ call on the poodles the other day and I’m not crazy!” He began a victory dance around the cabin which, due to the lack of gravity, mostly just looked like enthusiastic butt-wriggling.

“So sue me,” Minkowski snapped. “It was on while I was working on graduate school applications and it made good background noise. It was soothing.”

“Oh no,” said Eiffel, still dancing. “You don’t form an opinion like ‘none of them’ based on _background_ _noise._ Also, I see your point, but Team Logan forever. Anyway, you watched it enough to absorb plotlines. You _liked_ it.”

He halted right in front of her face, grinning, and pointed a finger in her face. “Admit it, Commander. You’re only human. You’re just as vulnerable to the charms of witty fast-paced banter and big blue eyes as the rest of us mere mortals.”

Swatting his hand away, Minkowski picked up her logs again, grumbling under her breath about annoying subordinates who didn’t know when to back off.

Eiffel, vindicated, let her push him away, moving with the force of it to bounce off of a nearby wall. “It’s all good, Minkowski. I got what I came for. I know your secret and can die happy. I’ll leave you and your logs alone now, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

He pushed off the bulkhead to head for the hatch. Just as he opened it, she spoke again.

“Anyway, the clear answer to that question is actually ‘Paris,’ Eiffel.”

Eiffel paused and turned. “Huh?”

She grinned back at him impishly. “Paris. Geller. She was clearly the most suitable romantic partner for Rory. They had far more in common than Rory did with any of the young men she dated.” 

Minkowski went back to her logs, the picture of studiousness, and Eiffel shut the hatch behind him, stunned. 

“Huh,” he said, hanging in the air outside the room, his back against the wall. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Pushing off from the wall, he made his way down the corridor, whistling a familiar tune as he went. 


	7. be kind, rewind [eiffel & minkowski]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written an hour before I leave to go see _The Last Jedi_ and more introspective than planned! Doug's feelings here mirror my own about many series - including Wolf 359! - though I am a recent SW fan convert.

“I don’t get it, Eiffel,” said Minkowski from the doorway where she stood, hands on hips. “Haven’t you see these movies like, 50 times apiece?”

“Probably more,” he said as the film whirred to life on the screen.

“So why is it essential that you, and I quote, ‘Immerse myself and bask in their glory so that I can be suitably prepared’ for tonight?”

Doug paused the film right before the iconic music could begin blaring from the speakers.

“Because,” he said with exaggerated patience, “this is the first new  _ Star Wars _ movie that’s come out since we’ve been back! And they’re good again! This is a major life event! You of all people should understand being prepared for big events, your to-do lists have to-do lists.”

“For one thing, my lists have a very specific internal organization system that, I assure you, makes perfect sense.”

“Nerd,” he cut in, grinning up at her.

“And for another,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard her, “I repeat: you’ve seen these films a ludicrous amount of times. You can quote them in their entirety, as I know from long, painful experience. Why do you need to ‘prepare’ at all?”

Doug sighed. “Okay. Let me see if I can explain this in your language.” He cleared his throat. “Hey now, I saw that eye roll. Have a little faith. So. Imagine that, like, Gilbert and Sullivan wrote a sequel to  _ Pirates of Penzance. _ You’d be super-excited, right?”

She laughed. “I think I’d mostly be marveling at how productive the afterlife is, seeing as they’ve both been dead more than a hundred years. But sure, if, by some crazy miracle, a lost Gilbert and Sullivan operetta was discovered, I’d be excited.”

“And before you saw it, you’d probably wanna be in the right mindset, yeah? You’d probably rewatch the movie version or go see it somewhere. That’s what I’m doing now. There was a time I never thought I’d live to see another one come out. This...” 

He trailed off for a moment, looking contemplative. “This series is something I’ve always had. I watched the first one when I was like, three years old with my dad. I didn’t really get it back then, it was just a bunch of fight scenes and scary bad guys and cool good guys. But it stuck with me.  _ Return of the Jedi  _ is like the third movie I ever saw in the theater. These characters were my Halloween costumes for probably five years straight. And now...” 

He shrugged. “I get to go watch a brand new one, knowing that even after so much has happened in my life and in the world, no matter how much is changed or gone or lost forever, this world, these people... they’re still the same. And if I want to turn back time, all I have to do is be kind and rewind.”

Looking embarrassed, he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

“Anyway, Minkowski, that’s what I meant. But I gotta start this movie if I’m gonna have time to finish it before Dom and Isabel and I have to leave for the movie theater.”

She gazed down at him for a moment, her face unreadable. Then she walked around to the front of the sofa and sat down next to him.

“Scoot over, will ya?” she asked, smiling. “I might as well give this whole  _ Star Wars _ thing a shot. I hear it’s a pretty solid series.”

Grinning widely, he scooched. “Excellent choice, boss. Now - ” He hit play. “Hold onto your butt and enjoy the ride.” 


	8. teamwork [minkowski/lovelace/eiffel]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Okay, okay!” cried Minkowski as her toast popped up, burnt. She glared at it, then turned to face Lovelace, effectively pinning her against the counter. “I surrender,” she said._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumping the rating for this chapter to around PG for smooching and non-graphic discussions of sexual situations.

“Morning, Eiffel,” yawned Minkowski, wandering into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, boss! You sure slept in a bit,” replied Eiffel. “I didn’t think you were  _ capable _ of sleeping past oh-seven-hundred.”

“Usually that’s true,” she said, pulling the toaster out of a cupboard. “But last night, a certain pair of unexpected house guests kept me up past my bedtime playing silly board games so I indulged myself.”

“Huh,” said Eiffel, the very picture of innocence. “Dunno who that could be. I’d never do something so rude to a host, would you, Isabel?”

“Never, Eiffel,” replied Lovelace, very serious. “I have much better manners than that.” Wide-eyed and as innocent as her companion, she took a bite of her Raisin Bran. Making a face, she added, “I’m not, however, too polite a guest to refrain from mentioning that your cereal selection is the worst, Renee. Everything is so...  _ healthy. _ Cardboard-flavored.”

Minkowski sighed as she dropped bread into the toaster. “Would you have preferred I made you both drive home at 2:00 this morning?” she asked, all sweetness and light. “Because I think you should both count yourselves lucky I gave you a bed to sleep in.”

Lovelace rose and made her way across the kitchen to Minkowski. Draping herself over the other woman’s shoulders, she said, “And what a lovely bed it was, too. Had the nicest companions you could ask for, including this damn sexy redhead with a  _ very _ attractive bossy streak.”

Renee was now blushing to match aforementioned hair, and ducked her head. “Oh hush,” she muttered.

“That’s not what you said last night,” continued Isabel in the same teasing tone. “I believe you  _ liked _ the noise I was making then. To say nothing of what you had Eiffel doing later on. In fact, I think your exact words were - ”

“Okay, okay!” cried Minkowski as her toast popped up, burnt. She glared at it, then turned to face Lovelace, effectively pinning herself against the counter. “I surrender,” she said.

“Did you hear that, Doug?” Isabel asked, grinning more widely. “Renee surrendered to me. Whatever shall we make of that.”

“I, uh - ” stammered Eiffel, still rather disbelieving that this was his real life. He cleared his throat and smiled at them both. “I can think of some things, but I’m sure your ideas are better. You’re creative like that.”

“Atta boy,” smirked Isabel. “Though don’t sell yourself short Doug. There’s room for all of us to contribute here.” She beckoned him over and he gladly went to them.

By the time he got there, Isabel was already kissing Renee and neither seemed to notice. But then she reached out, grabbed him by the shirt front, and pulled him in.

“I said,” she murmured, pulling away from Renee to pin him with her dark eyes, “that there was room for all of us. So...” She glanced back and forth between Doug and a now thoroughly-flushed Renee. “Who wants to contribute?”


End file.
